Scarlett imagined what it must have been like, looking at blackened lumps, terrified every time he turned one over with his boot.
‘I spent hours hunting up and down the river, in case she’d made it there and was still alive. At last I heard a car engine. I ran back to my car, then as I neared the turn-off to Overflow, I glimpsed Dr McAlpine’s ute through the smoke, with Jed in it.’
William shut his eyes. ‘I cried. I just sat in the car and cried in relief. It didn’t even occur to me to think the church might have burned. The fire had seemed to be blowing away from it. I’d been thinking of Jed, not Merv. But then I drove back along the road to get him and that’s when I saw the fire front had spread, that the church had burned too. I drove over the black paddock to it, hoping he might have escaped. But he hadn’t. Of course he hadn’t. And I had killed a man, burned him alive. And the worst thing of all was that, for a few seconds, I was glad.’
Scarlett looked at him, sitting anguished in the armchair, still seeing the horror of that day even in this normal Cooma house. ‘Can I tell you something too?’
He looked up at her, his eyes red. ‘Of course.’
‘I lied as well. I’d seen Merv that afternoon. And Jed was wet too. I didn’t say anything, to protect her.’
He nodded. ‘I thought you might have.’
‘That’s not all. For a few moments when I heard he was dead, I was glad too. He was a monster. And if I had the strength, I might even have thought of bashing him up. But I wouldn’t have done it, and neither did you. It’s not what we think that matters, but whether we act on those thoughts, or aren’t ashamed of them.’
‘Maybe. But I can’t forgive myself.’
‘That just proves you’re a good man. You took a man who’d just tried to kill an innocent woman and her child to a church to save him from burning debris. And you could have stayed silent,’ said Scarlett. ‘You confessed for Jed, didn’t you? I saw your face as you looked at her.’
‘Yes,’ said William quietly. ‘You’re going to make a good doctor, you know.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because for the first time since it happened I feel . . . clean.’
‘Talking helps,’ said Scarlett. ‘Talking always helps. Things fester if you keep too much to yourself.’ She met his eyes. Good eyes, kind eyes. The eyes of a man who had made one great mistake, but who could be trusted with your life. ‘There are going to be times when I’m going to dislike my patients. Hate them, maybe. Wife bashers, abusers, the mean and exploitative. For a few seconds I’m going to think, I will not help this person. But then I will.’
‘You understand,’ said William.
‘I think so. Though I haven’t had to make that decision yet.’
They sat in silence for a while. There were no sounds of tea making from the kitchen. William’s aunt could not have made out their words, but she would have heard a passionate conversation.
Scarlett smiled tentatively. ‘Would you come to the special midnight showing of The Adventures of Barry McKenzie at the Town Hall next Saturday? There’s supper afterwards.’
‘I don’t think . . .’
She deliberately misunderstood him. ‘Yeah, I’ve seen it too. It wasn’t all that good the first time. But we can have fun laughing in all the wrong places.’
‘I mean I can’t.’
‘Of course you can. You did the wrong thing, Will. You made an error of judgement that cost a human life. It’s not up to us to decide one life is worth less than another: we both know that.’
Scarlett looked at her legs, stronger every day, and thought about all the kids like her who’d wasted away unnoticed, dying of neglect or even ‘mercy’, because someone had decided their lives were not worth fighting for. ‘And you tried to cover it up — that was wrong. But you owned up, and you spared Jed and Sam. You made that part of it right, but you can’t make the death right if you don’t live. I think you deserve a very good life. I bet it’ll be one where you keep doing good things for people too, because that’s the kind of man you are.’
He stared at her, silent.
‘We’d just go as friends, of course,’ added Scarlett quickly. ‘Will you come?’
She waited, slightly breathless. The invitation had been Fish’s idea. Fish had been sure William would say yes, but . . .
‘Yes,’ said William Ryan. ‘I’d like to. Look, also, I . . . I wasn’t perving or anything that time I came up to the house.’
‘We know you weren’t,’ said Scarlett quietly.
‘I was just trying to . . .’ he shook his head ‘. . . come to terms with what I’d done. I think I went half crazy, holding it all in. I kept needing to check Jed was okay, with all the stuff happening with the investigation. It was stupid.’
‘Yep, really dumb. But we all do dumb things sometimes. Even me. Like wearing a Gibber’s Creek Centenary tea towel.’
He gave half of a grin at that. ‘I wouldn’t try that again in public if I were you. Someone might take a Polaroid and you’d end up a Playboy centrefold. Miss November, 1979.’
She flushed. It was possibly the most wonderful thing anyone had ever said to her, even if he was joking. But she could tell from his face that it wasn’t quite a joke. He really had thought her attractive. Maybe even a lot more than that. And when she had looked at herself in the mirror that night, she had been.
‘Lucky I’m back in the wheelchair today then,’ she managed.
He looked startled. ‘Do you really think that makes you less beautiful?’
Beautiful, she thought. He thinks I’m beautiful! ‘No. But others do.’
‘Not me,’ he said quietly. ‘Not anyone with half a brain.’
She didn’t know how to answer this. ‘Want a lift back to Gibber’s Creek?’ she asked instead. ‘I need to get back for Mattie’s birthday party. Jed didn’t want to have one till the inquest was over, but she feels it’s the right time now.’ She waited while he considered. His mother had moved to Mah’s old house at Drinkwater, since they no longer had the police residence.
‘Yes. It’s time I faced it all. Thank you,’ said William at last.
‘Thank you,’ said Scarlett, a sob unexpectedly catching in her throat. ‘If it hadn’t been for you, Merv would have run after Jed. She would never have escaped him. She and Mattie . . .’ It was impossible to say the words. ‘I . . . I don’t know where we’d have been without you.’
It had been the right thing to say. And the absolute truth, and suddenly she could see the moment that William knew it. She pretended not to see him weep silent tears that ran down his face as he tried to keep it impassive.
‘Jed said you wanted to study architecture,’ she said after a few minutes. The quiet was growing heavy.
He nodded, coughing and wiping his face with his hanky. ‘I was thinking of enrolling in the degree next year. I’m not sure if I could though. Or should.’
‘Of course you should.’ Scarlett could just imagine him creating exactly the kind of buildings people needed. ‘Don’t you dare go all masochistic, William Ryan. What’s your idea of a dream house?’
He relaxed into an almost-smile. ‘I’ve been designing that since I was ten. It keeps changing. Just now it’s long — three buildings linked together following the slope of a hill, hardwood frames and corrugated-iron roof and walls so it’s bushfire safe. A curved roof so wind rolls over it. Big French windows in every room, but with shutters for insulation or if a fire comes again. A big hardwood deck angled with the hill, looking down at the river . . .’
And she could see it. Could see it perfectly.
‘Tea,’ said Mrs Yantell in the doorway, holding a tray with a plate of Arnott’s assorted biscuits, a silver teapot and her best china cups on a doily. She sat the tray down on a coffee table and began to pour.
‘Oh, this wretched pot. It always dribbles.’ She took a tea towel from her apron and wiped the tray. A Gibber’s Creek Centenary tea towel.
Scarlett looked at the tea towe
l, at the floor and finally at William, who was red cheeked too. Then suddenly he laughed. Finally William Ryan laughed, and she laughed with him, his aunt staring at them, bewildered but happy, the Gibber’s Creek Centenary tea towel (extra large) in her hand.
JED
‘Two iced coffees, hold the whipped cream but double ice cream, and a dish of plain ice cream, preferably in something unbreakable,’ said Julieanne to Mark at the Blue Belle. This was a celebration. This was not just Mattie’s belated birthday. Somehow in the past two weeks Jed had been able to finish the changes to Matilda’s Last Waltz that had seemed impossible for so long.
Mattie beamed at Mark from Jed’s lap. She wore a pink birthday dress, rich in lace and pintucking, made lovingly by Blue — days of work for a dress that would be worn two or three times and then outgrown. So much of women’s arts were transient, thought Jed, like food, but no less skilled or wonderful.
‘Hi hi hi,’ Mattie said to Mark. It was her favourite new word.
Mark grinned back at her. ‘Happy birthday, kid.’ He headed off with their order.
Julieanne turned back to Jed. ‘We should have a draft cover for you to look at in a couple of weeks.’
‘Excellent.’ Jed removed the sugar dish from Mattie’s grasp. ‘I think if I had to look at the manuscript one more time, I’d go gaga.’
Julieanne looked amused. ‘You’ll be seeing it back at least twice more, after editing and proofreading.’
‘Proofreading?’
‘The delights of proofreading are still before you. You’ve just done the easy bit. Now the real work comes. I like that dress,’ she added. ‘Gorgeous taffeta. Turquoise suits you. One of Matilda’s?’
‘1952 Dior. I . . . I just felt like wearing something special for Mattie’s birthday.’
‘Mmm,’ said Julieanne noncommittally. ‘Do babies drool all the time?’
‘She’s teething. But, yes, she possibly would win the drooling championships. No, sweetie, that’s the pepper grinder . . .’
Julieanne moved the salt cellar away from Mattie’s fingers too. ‘Now tell me about your next book.’
‘Book!’ demanded Mattie, gazing towards the kitchen.
‘What next book?’ asked Jed innocently.
‘Aha. So you do have one. Of course you have one. I know my Jed.’
Jed nodded. ‘I don’t want to talk about it yet. I need Nancy’s permission before I start it. And her help.’
‘Another history of an extraordinary woman?’
‘Totally unlike Matilda. But, yes,’ said Jed. ‘This woman was extraordinary. And her life tells the story of Australia too, though it’s a different history from Matilda’s.’
‘Excellent. Now tell me what’s bothering you. It’s not Sam, is it? I mean, there hasn’t been any change?’
Jed shook her head. ‘No, this is something quite different.’
‘What is it then? Thank you,’ she added, smiling with automatic charm as Mark put the iced coffees and metal dish of ice cream in front of them.
‘Hi hi book!’ said Mattie, drooling even more than usual.
Jed wiped the mess, fed Mattie a spoonful of ice cream, then gave her the spoon to eat it by herself or, more likely, to smear it over her hair, dress, Jed and the table. She reached into her handbag and took out a letter. Unremarkable envelope, handwritten address.
Julieanne examined it. ‘Unopened,’ she commented. She looked at the sender’s name on the back and raised an eyebrow. ‘Debbie Skellowski?’
Jed nodded numbly. The stepmother who had neglected her, let her boyfriend rape her, then in a rage of jealousy had her charged with being uncontrollable. ‘It arrived two days ago. I couldn’t bear to open it in case it spoiled Mattie’s birthday party. But it feels like it’s burning a hole in my handbag.’
‘Read it,’ said Julieanne quietly.
‘You open it. Please. I . . . I don’t want to touch it. Read it out.’
Julieanne gave Jed a sharp look. ‘Here? In public?’
‘I can’t break down here in public. No, Mattie, sweetheart, you wouldn’t like iced coffee.’
‘Ungle spurgle book!’ said Mattie, who knew she would. The word ‘book’ was serving her extremely well. Nearly everyone who heard it gave her exclamations of admiration. And sometimes cake.
‘Okay.’ Julieanne ripped open the letter.
‘Dear Janet, I know you will be surprised to hear from me. I am probably the last person you want to hear from. I know it is no use saying sorry for all I did to you, but if it is worth anything, I am more sorry than I can say.’
Julieanne looked at the shock on Jed’s face. ‘Keep on going?’
Jed nodded, moving her coffee out of Mattie’s reach.
‘It is no excuse to say that I wasn’t in control of myself back then. But I have been going to AA for eighteen months now, and have not had a drink since. I would like to make amends with you, because the program has helped me see how bad I treated you, and because part of it is that I tell you I’ve seen that, and that I was terribly wrong. You don’t have to forgive me at all. Not ever. I would not blame you if you did not.
‘I have often wondered how you were and where you were, but had no way of finding out until the police contacted me. I am so sorry about your husband’s accident and even sorrier that Merv caused you even more trouble. That is my fault too.
‘I think you have some money now, and a home, but with a baby and your husband in hospital, things must be hard. I am working at a real-estate office, and the commissions are good. Perhaps you don’t need my help, but it would mean a great deal to me if I could send you something each week.
‘If one day you could bear to meet me again, I would very much like to see your father’s daughter and his granddaughter. I loved your father very much. I will be forever sorry I did so badly by his daughter. Please, do accept my offer. It would mean the world to me.
‘Yours always, Debbie.’
‘Holy hell,’ said Julieanne.
‘Yes. Well,’ said Jed shakily.
‘The Beast of Brisbane has turned out to have a heart after all. What will you do?’
‘I . . . I don’t know. Write to her, perhaps, saying I don’t need money. Meeting her . . . I can’t even think of that just now. Maybe, one day.’ Jed looked at her watch. ‘Time for the party. We’d better get going.’
She had arranged to meet them all outside the hospital. There was Blue, carrying the cake — white icing and a single pink candle. Mah and Kirsty held plates and cake forks, Joseph and Fish armloads of presents, while Nancy and Michael stood by an irregular lump that had to be a badly wrapped tricycle. Scarlett wheeled down the path just as Jed and Julieanne arrived.
It seemed odd to be walking down this corridor with other people: strange but very right. There was even laughter as Michael kept bumping into people with the tricycle.
Chairs waited for them, and a table for presents and cake. Sam McAlpine might be lying unmoving, but he was not going to miss his daughter’s birthday party.
‘Presents first,’ said Michael, putting down the tricycle. ‘Look, Mattie! See what this is!’
‘Ag,’ said Mattie, unimpressed, her eyes on the cake.
Books from Julieanne, Scarlett and Mah. A wooden block with pegs to hammer in from Blue and Joseph, as well as half a dozen more dresses, equally boring to a small girl interested in cake. A knitted Amelia Earhart-style beanie from Kirsty. Fish’s painting of Maxi, almost life size, at least received five seconds’ attention.
‘Og,’ said Mattie. ‘Aggi!’
‘That’s right, sweetie. It’s a dog! Maxi!’ Blue beamed at her granddaughter’s brilliance. ‘And who’s that?’ She pointed to Jed.
‘Ummy,’ said Mattie.
‘That’s right! And who’s that?’ Blue pointed to Sam.
Suddenly the room was silent. Jed was dredging up her brightest voice to tell Mattie who Sam was when her daughter grabbed Michael’s knees and hauled herself to her feet. ‘Gaggy,’ she a
nnounced, pointing a tiny finger at Sam. Her gaze moved to the cake on the table. ‘Book?’
Jed refused to wipe her tears. Joseph held Blue close while he choked back a sob. Michael handed Scarlett a box of matches and she stood to combined applause, blushing as she lit the candle.
In the end they all blew it out, except Mattie, who did not seem to understand the concept of ‘blow’. She did, however, show a definite approval of rainbow cake as everyone sang ‘Happy Birthday’, including several of the nurses and Alannah Sampson.
Jed had not expected them, but of course it was right that the staff should be here too. It was lucky it was a large cake, or perhaps Blue, with more experience, knew that the family would not be celebrating alone. It was excellent cake, even if Mattie spat out the icing.
People talked. They talked about the usual things: the heat, the chance of rain (none, said Nancy flatly), Jed’s dress and the time Matilda had worn it to the Drinkwater Christmas party the year one of the dogs made off with the turkey, and do you remember . . . ?
Scarlett stood, holding her plate and teacup, as if she had been standing at birthday parties all her life, and Michael and Julieanne perched Mattie on the tricycle and wheeled her up and down the corridor, as Mattie laughed and the more mobile patients looked out and grinned. It was good to hear a child’s laughter in a hospital.
Do you remember the time Andy fell off his horse and broke his ankle, but it took six weeks before he’d admit it? And the time the clothesline prop man turned up just as the flood came down the river and washed away the bridge, and he stayed five weeks in the shearers’ quarters eating like a horse . . .
‘And he was vegetarian,’ said Michael, pushing Mattie and the tricycle back in. ‘Wouldn’t eat anything that might have dripping in it, not even roast potatoes.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Blue. ‘A clothesline prop man couldn’t be a vegetarian. He was having you on.’
‘True as I’m standing here,’ said Michael.
The Last Dingo Summer Page 28